


wishing on sunshine and your eyes

by YourLocalStressedPotato



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Iwaizumi Hajime Being an Idiot, Jumpers knee, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Oikawa Tooru Being Oikawa Tooru, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, Okay honestly I'm just bad at tagging, Sunshine is a popular theme, Swearing, this is Very Dramatic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:28:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28868556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourLocalStressedPotato/pseuds/YourLocalStressedPotato
Summary: There, on the sidewalk going home, Iwaizumi made a wish to the sunshine instead of the stars and told himself that it didn't matter, because he was walking beside a beautiful boy and some things in life were just made out of reach.~(The fic where Iwaizumi is hopelessly in love and Oikawa is very beautiful)
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 21
Kudos: 73





	wishing on sunshine and your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there, welcome! This is my first fic on Ao3, so I apologize in advance if it's bad. I'm just absolute Iwaoi trash and had an idea burning a hole through my skull, and this happened. Hope you enjoy it!

Iwaizumi didn’t wish for things. At least, he didn’t like to. It was something about how it made him feel. As if the minute he whispered to stars he was admitting to himself that what he wanted was unattainable. He knew that nothing was unattainable; his mother had taught him that. So Iwaizumi kept his curtains closed, worked hard, and didn’t wish for things. That’s how it’s always been. 

But it was a bright summer day in Miyagi, and Iwaizumi almost caught himself wishing that this moment would never end. Because Oikawa was walking next to him, long limbs and half smiles and soft hair as familiar as Iwaizumi's own, humming some song that Iwaizumi didn’t know. Hanamaki and Mattsun walked just ahead of them, gesturing wildly and bickering. It was nice. It was.... peaceful.

And while Iwaizumi would sooner die than admit it to his teammates, he loved moments like that. 

“You were hitting well today, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said mildly from beside him. Iwaizumi turned his head and raised his eyebrows at the setter, who grinned. Iwaizumi didn't even bother to try and argue the nickname anymore. Oikawa just didn't stop.

“I hit well every day,” Iwaizumi retorted. Oikawa whistled, faux impressed, nudging him with one flapping elbow. He didn’t bother removing his hand from the pocket of his jacket. Somehow, he was still wearing the team jacket despite the sun beating down on them. Iwaizumi couldn’t help but think that he looked beautiful in it.

“So confident,” Oikawa cooed. “Where does all that swagger go when it comes to girls?”

Iwaizumi made an indignant noise and punched Oikawa’s arm even as his heart stung. 

Of course, Oikawa didn’t know. There was no reason for him to know. 

Iwaizumi almost-wished that he did. 

“Ow, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa rubbed his upper arm and pouted, but his eyes were bright. He loved the teasing, the banter. Iwaizumi knew that. Iwaizumi just glared at him and looked away, gaze catching on a cloud. He wanted to pull it over the sun. Whether it was because of the heat or because the sparkle in Oikawa’s eyes was blinding him, he didn’t know. 

“Don’t hurt the poor boy,” Makki tossed back over his shoulder, pink hair catching in the light. “We need our captain in good shape. I don’t want you giving him any excuses to slack off.” 

Iwaizumi scoffed quietly, because that was the most outrageous thing he’d ever heard. Oikawa was a complete fool for volleyball, so much so that he’d worked himself into a knee brace. Even then, even after Iwaizumi and doctors pleaded with him to take a break, he kept working as if every second on the court was the last one he’d ever have. And Iwaizumi knew, even if the world was falling down around him, Oikawa would keep begging for one more set, one more hit, one more moment.

“Makki, you wound me,” Oikawa said, pressing a hand to his heart. Hanamaki made an unamused noise, not looking back. Mattsun blew Oikawa a kiss that dripped sarcasm. Oikawa rolled his eyes. 

Quiet fell, interrupted by nothing but the gentle chirping of birds and the thumping of their footsteps. Iwaizumi tried not to look at the boy at his side, but it was like Oikawa was a vibrant painting in a gray room. His eyes just kept travelling back to the colors and splendor and life because everything else felt so dull compared to it. Compared to _Oikawa._

Iwaizumi tried, and he failed, and he was okay with that. 

Because Oikawa was like someone straight out of a story book. All sweeping lines and thrown back shoulders and filled out t-shirts, graceful and lithe and devastatingly aware of it. Sometimes Iwaizumi hurt, watching him after their games and during school, flashing smiles and tipping his head just so, hair spilling across his forehead like candy colored ink. Yet, despite all his posturing, he always looked on guard, even if Iwaizumi was the only one that could see it. 

Soaking in the Miyagi sunshine after practice, Oikawa was different. Smiling at the sky just because he wanted to, carefree and happy, he could have asked for anything in the world and Iwaizumi would have given it to him. 

Iwaizumi didn't wish for things. It had always been like that. He didn't like admitting that things he wanted were unattainable. 

But there, on the sidewalk going home, Iwaizumi made a wish to the sunshine instead of the stars and told himself that it didn't matter, because he was walking beside a beautiful boy and some things in life were just made out of reach.

* * *

"Here's what I don't get," Oikawa began, dropping his bag onto Iwaizumi's floor. It landed with a loud thump. Iwaizumi furrowed his brows at it. _How many books is he carrying?_ Oikawa didn't seem to notice his concern; that or he ignored it. "You have a mother who cooks incredible food." 

"Uh-huh." Iwaizumi shrugged off his bag too, yanking out his homework. He didn't have much, thank the gods. He set it on the desk and a moment later Oikawa did the same. 

"So you have this mother- this amazing mother- and yet every time you want to eat something, you decide to heat up _ramen_." 

Iwaizumi turned his head and blinked at Oikawa, who was staring at him incredulously. Iwaizumi ignored how close their faces were, how easy it would be to lean forward and-

"Tell me you understand my aggravation, Iwa-chan," Oikawa said, eyes boring into him. Iwaizumi shook his head slowly. Sure, his mom's cooking was amazing, but he'd grown up with it. Oikawa had too. He just figured it was better to spare her the trouble of cooking something. Besides, ramen was good. 

"I don't think I do." 

Oikawa let out an aggrieved moan, propping his elbows on the desk and dropping his head in his hands. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes at the dramatics, pulling out a desk chair and dropping down into it. He flicked Oikawa's head and the setter mindlessly batted him away with those hands.

Iwaizumi had always loved Oikawa's hands, his long fingers and the graceful way he flicked his wrists. Setter hands. Hands made for volleyball and piano playing and curling around a cup of hot chocolate in the winter. Hands that he'd held while a doctor told Oikawa about his knee. The look on his best friend's face that day had been enough to rip his heart in half. 

Iwaizumi squeezed his eyes shut for a second but gave no indication as to what was going on in his head when he snapped, "Homework now, Shittykawa." 

"You're positively cruel to me," Oikawa said, but he obeyed, pulling out the second desk chair and flipping it around with one hand. He swung one long leg over it, draping his arms across the back and fingering the pages of his textbook mindlessly. "Why are we doing this so early today?"

Iwaizumi rubbed the back of his neck. Truthfully, he didn't know. Just that he couldn't stand it today, Oikawa in his bedroom, hands arching through the air like lines of poetry. He didn't know how it was different from any other time, except that ten minutes earlier he'd made a wish to the sunshine. 

“Just felt like getting it out of the way,” he lied. Oikawa hummed, picking up a pencil and flipping to his math homework. Iwaizumi groaned. Oikawa’s head lolled around to him and he offered a wicked, lazy smirk that set something in Iwaizumi on fire. 

“You’re making me do homework, so I get to pick what we do first.” When Iwaizumi groaned again, he stuck his nose in the air petulantly, still grinning evilly. “Come now, Iwa-chan, I make a fair bargain and you know it.” 

“Fuck you, Tooru,” Iwaizumi said, but he yanked the math work towards him. Oikawa laughed a triumphant laugh, bumping Iwaizumi’s shoulder with his forehead. Iwaizumi shoved his face away, eliciting another laugh that filled the room like… well, sunshine. 

They went quiet, pencils scraping at paper, only talking to ask the occasional question. Oikawa began humming again, the same tune from outside. And Iwaizumi… it was destroying him. How soft Oikawa looked bent over his paper, biting his lip in concentration, the tiny furrow that appeared between his eyebrows when he was thinking. He got that look on his face when he was figuring out how to beat someone, too. Iwaizumi had seen it on the bench and on the court and everywhere else. 

“Mmm, Iwa?” Oikawa looked up abruptly, and Iwaizumi barely looked down at his paper fast enough. He lifted his eyes again, and this time Oikawa’s gaze clashed with his. Iwaizumi’s heart might have stuttered in his chest. 

Oikawa just gave him a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes- Iwaizumi didn’t know why- and tapped his paper. “Help, I’m so lost.” 

“Liar,” Iwaizumi said immediately. “You just want me to do it for you.” 

Oikawa sighed, gently slamming his head on the desk repeatedly with a muttered curse. Iwaizumi chuckled and Oikawa paused his head banging. 

“You didn’t honestly think that would work, right?” Iwaizumi asked. “You do amazing in school. I mean, you were literally talking to me in the locker room about how easy all your classes are.” 

Oikawa lifted his head from the desk, looking slightly flustered. Iwaizumi cocked his head. 

“I honestly didn’t think you were paying attention to a word I was saying,” Oikawa admitted after a beat, shrugging. There was something swirling in his eyes that Iwaizumi didn’t get a chance to examine because Oikawa had already turned back to his work. 

“Oh, well- Wait! No!” 

The words finally registered. Oikawa raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Iwa-chan, if you weren’t aware, I have work to do.” 

“Can it, Trashykawa. What did you mean, you didn’t think I was paying attention to you? I- I always pay attention to you.” 

Oikawa blinked at him. 

Inside, Iwaizumi was hitting himself. It would have been so easy to let it go, let the comment fall into whispers and then into nothing. It wasn’t like he didn’t _know_ he was a hard person to understand. It wasn’t like he didn’t _know_ he was abrasive and gruff and distant. He’d just thought that Oikawa understood that. That Oikawa knew Iwaizumi could barely take his eyes off of him. 

He’d thought Oikawa had known that Iwaizumi heard every single thing he said and loved all of it. 

“You do? Seriously?” Oikawa asked. Iwaizumi nodded slightly. 

“You’re my best friend, Tooru,” he said, as if that was an explanation. Which it was, even if it was a lie. But Iwaizumi wanted to reach out and take Oikawa’s hand. Wanted to grab the title he’d just thrown into the air and rip it to shreds. He wanted so many things he couldn’t have. Maybe that was why he’d made a wish on sunshine. “I’m… I listen when you talk.” 

Oikawa took a breath, a small smile of relief jumping to his face. Iwaizumi ached to see it. 

“I listen when you talk too, Iwa-chan. Even if you don’t say much.” The second part came with a small laugh that grabbed Iwaizumi’s heart in an iron fist. 

Iwaizumi made his second wish then, made it on the chocolate glass of Oikawa’s eyes. They were shining again, so blinding that Iwaizumi knew he shouldn’t bother trying to pull a cloud over them. Iwaizumi made his second wish on those eyes instead of the stars and prayed that it didn’t matter because he was with a beautiful boy and some things were made to be out of his reach. 

* * *

_Tooru, I wish you knew how much I loved you._

_And Tooru, I wish you loved me back._

* * *

_“Iwaizumi!”_

Iwaizumi threw himself into the air and the ball was already there, in a flash of yellow and blue. He felt it hit his hand, felt the impact reverberate through every bone in his body. It set him on fire and made his blood pump faster than normal and it was like time froze. The gym felt huge and gaping and endless all around him. He watched it unfold in slow motion as he slammed the ball down into the right corner of the other side. Perfect aim. 

A perfect spike. 

He landed and turned to meet Oikawa’s eyes. The setter was smiling; beaming, really. Iwaizumi knew how proud Oikawa got of his hitters. How good it felt for him to see them land one, _really_ land a hit. Iwaizumi ignored the pounding in his gut and the sickness in his heart at the look on Oikawa’s face and grinned back fiercely. 

“Nice kill, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said. His tone was sincere and glowing. Iwaizumi nodded, ducking under the net to make room for the next hitter, even though it didn’t feel like there was anyone else in the room. It was just Oikawa and him. The ace and his captain. It was always like this after they pulled off something remarkable. Like they could take on the entire world. 

“Nice set, Oikawa.” 

Chocolate eyes made of glass held him in place for a second longer than they should have. 

Iwaizumi turned away jerkily, going to get back in line. He didn’t know if his teammates had noticed that, and if they had, what they would say about it. Hopefully nothing. He prayed they would say nothing. 

The gods obviously hated him. 

“The fuck, Iwaizumi?” Mattsun hissed the minute Iwaizumi took up his place in line behind the middle blocker. He sounded mildly concerned and slightly upset. Iwaizumi groaned internally and focused on the next hitter, trying to formulate a good response for a waiting Mattsukawa. 

Mizoguchi threw the ball up and Oikawa positioned himself beneath it with ease, hands up, eyes darting between the ceiling and Makki. 

“Makki!” He barked. And maybe it was Iwaizumi imagining things, but Oikawa had said Makki’s name differently than he’d said Iwaizumi’s. 

Iwaizumi shook the thoughts away.

The ball barely seemed to touch Oikawa’s hands. His sets were glorious to watch and even better to hit, perfect and accurate and breathtaking. He was beautiful here- beautiful everywhere- eyes feral with delight at the game, hair falling around his face like that was all it was made to do. The set arched through the air like some sort of comet, as if it should be trailing sparks and the overwhelming energy Oikawa infused into the court. 

Makki laughed out loud at the set before he swung his arm down. The ball hit the other side with a bang. Not as accurate as Iwaizumi had been, he was slightly proud to note. 

Makki clenched his fist and turned to Oikawa like all the hitters did. Oikawa watched him, hand on his hip, small smile still curling his lips. 

“That…” Makki began. “Was _amazing,_ Kawa.” 

Oikawa threw his head back in a laugh and waved Makki away, congratulating him on a good spike. 

The expression dropped off of the pink-haired man’s face almost the moment he reached them. 

“You saw it too?” He asked Mattsun helplessly. Mattsun nodded solemnly. Iwaizumi looked between them in confusion. 

“What the hell is going on?” 

Makki shook his head at Iwaizumi, clicking his tongue. Iwaizumi wanted to smack the look off his face. Like he knew something that Iwaizumi didn’t. 

“Zumi… Oh, Zumi.” 

“Hanamaki, I swear to god, I will strangle you in the locker room.” 

“That’s kinky,” Mattsun chimed mildly. Makki raised one eyebrow as if to say, _he’s got a point._ Iwaizumi delivered a slap to the back of his head as Kunimi strolled up behind them. He opened his mouth, probably to remark on the situation despite knowing nothing, but Iwaizumi shut him up with a glare. The first year stuck his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender, smirking. 

Iwaizumi turned his attention back to Mattsun and Makki. 

“Seriously, what are you two talking about?” 

Neither of them gave him an answer, just twin winks before they turned and ignored him. He snarled quietly, tipping his head back and closing his eyes, begging for some scrap of patience from gods that had previously denied him. He was going to kill his friends. He was actually going to kill them. 

Because he had a feeling they knew. 

They had to know. There was no other reason for them to be acting like this. The thought made him feel more sick than angry. He didn’t want people to know, even if they were his friends. Because eventually, it would get back to Oikawa. And Iwaizumi could not lose him. No, it was better to have him like this: as a friend and setter and captain and nothing more. 

It was better to take what he could get than lose all of it. 

Iwaizumi almost made another wish, standing on the court watching as Oikawa directed each of his spikers with the fluidity of a master. He almost made another wish on the way Oikawa looked just after the ball left his hands. Like he’d done something holy, like _he_ was holy. 

He stopped himself at the last second, even though Oikawa’s mussed hair and outstretched arms was something he wanted to worship. 

Instead, Iwaizumi watched as a beautiful boy fell further in love with something that was not him and he told himself that he was okay with it, because as long as that boy was happy, Iwaizumi didn’t have any wishes. 

* * *

“Iwaizumi, you gotta tell him,” Mattsun said, wiggling a pocky stick in between his teeth before breaking off the end. Makki nodded too. 

They were sitting in Iwaizumi’s room, Makki and Mattsun sprawled over each other on the floor and Iwaizumi sitting cross legged on the bed, a pillow in his lap. Somehow, his friends had gotten it into their extremely thick heads that Iwaizumi should tell Oikawa how he felt. 

Which he wouldn’t do. Because Oikawa didn’t love him back. Not like that. Oikawa didn’t love him like stars and winter and summer in Miyagi and long conversations huddled under a blanket. Oikawa didn’t love him like Iwaizumi loved Oikawa. 

That was okay. Iwaizumi didn’t want something that was fake or forced or not there at all. 

It was another reason he wouldn’t tell Oikawa. Oikawa, with his huge heart and comforting smiles, would feel guilty just for causing Iwaizumi pain. That, or he would be so disgusted that he would leave, and Iwaizumi would never have him again. 

The thought was enough to make his stomach twist into sick knots. 

“I’m not telling him.” 

“Why not?” Makki asked, snagging a pocky stick from the box. Mattsun swatted at him lazily. Iwaizumi honestly felt a bit like punching them both in the face and making them get out of his house, but his mother would call that sort of behavior rude. 

Iwaizumi would argue that he was always rude, but his mother was cooking that night and there was no way he was missing it. 

“I’m not doing it, Hanamaki,” Iwaizumi said, and maybe his voice was harsher than it should have been, but he didn’t care. He was done with this conversation. He was done with his friends pushing him so far on something he wouldn’t- couldn’t- do. 

Iwaizumi fell into silence as Makki and Mattsun picked up their usual rhythm of banter. He scrolled through his phone, trying to ignore all the selfies of Oikawa smiling as wind pulled through his hair, mussing it with greedy fingers. He ignored rosy cheeks and blown kisses and short videos of him humming some love song and giggling. Those probably hurt the most. 

Him, him, him. Oikawa, Oikawa, Oikawa. It was always him. 

Iwaizumi’s phone rang, and the refrain didn’t stop pounding through his head as he read the name over and tapped the green button on instinct. 

“What?” He said into the phone, readying himself for a trilled ‘Iwa-chan!’ and some mindless blabbering. Maybe some whining because he hadn’t been invited to Iwaizumi’s, as if he even needed an invitation anymore. Oikawa strolled into Iwaizumi’s home like he’d strolled into Iwaizumi’s heart, and he was always welcome in both places. Still, Iwaizumi waited for the scolding he was sure to get.

There was nothing but labored breathing on the other end of the line. 

Iwaizumi’s gut twisted and he was already moving, not answering Makki and Mattsun as he yanked his shoes on. He held the phone to his ear with one hand and yanked the door open with the other. 

“What, Oikawa? What’s going on?” 

_“My- my fucking knee, Iwaizumi, it_ hurts,” Oikawa gritted out. He rarely swore. He rarely called Iwaizumi by his real name. Panic was trying to sink it’s icy claws into Iwaizumi’s heart. Hell, it had the moment Oikawa had called and greeted him with silence. 

Iwaizumi’s feet pounded down the stairs. Makki and Mattsun were at his heels, still asking frantic questions that Iwaizumi didn’t hear. He couldn’t hear anything beyond Oikawa panting with pain and needing him. 

He burst into the living room and his mother looked up from her book, concern shining in her big, dark eyes. Iwaizumi just tossed her the car keys from where he’d swiped them off the hallway table and made some desperate noise. 

“It’s Tooru,” he said. She jumped up without another word, waving him along as she made quickly for the door. Iwaizumi turned his attention back to Oikawa. “What were you doing?” 

_“Playing volleyball,”_ came the tight response. Oikawa sounded like he was grinding his teeth together to keep from screaming or crying or both. Iwaizumi couldn’t get into the car fast enough. He barely registered Makki and Mattsun climbing into the back, now completely silent. He barely registered his mother asking him where to go and him muttering a response. 

“No shit,” Iwaizumi snarled. “I’m on my way. Sit your ass down and don’t move.” He paused. “What were you even _doing?_ I thought it was completely healed up.” 

_“There are some things-_ fuck, _there are some things I don’t even tell you, Iwaizumi.”_

Iwaizumi squeezed his eyes shut at the words. Something like sorrow and too much worry clawed at his throat, choking him. 

“Well, tell me this: what happened?” 

_“I ran a few miles on the track. I just- I needed to run. I needed to move. And I guess my knee burned a little bit, but I felt_ good. _I ignored it, dismissed it as an old ache, and started serving.”_

“You were jump-serving while your knee was hurting?” Iwaizumi almost shouted. “Are you actually a moron or do you just enjoy hospital visits?” 

_“Damn it, Iwa, I get it! I fucked up. But after that I worked on jump sets and at one point I came back down too hard and it just buckled. You don’t get it though. I needed to do this today.”_

“Why is today so special?” 

Oikawa went quiet, and Iwaizumi panicked again. The gym came into view. He motioned to his mother.

“Oi, Shittykawa, talk to me.”

_“The hell you want me to say?”_

Iwaizumi didn’t have an answer for that. Because he didn’t want Oikawa to say that everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t. He didn’t want to hear Oikawa tell him how fine he was, how wonderful, how not hurt. 

Oikawa was in pain, and Iwaizumi had not been there for him. 

“Dammit,” he cursed quietly, shoving his door open before the car stopped moving. He leapt out, ignoring his mother’s barked protest, and sprinted for the side doors. They were unlocked. Leave it to Oikawa to completely abuse his responsibilities as captain and come to the club on a weekend. 

Iwaizumi hung up the phone the minute he walked into the gym. 

Oikawa was sitting on the floor against the far wall, hands braced on the wood, legs spread out in front of him. His chest rose and fell in an uneven, sharp rhythm. Iwaizumi didn’t give himself time to take in the sight because he was already dropping to the ground, knees slamming against the wood painfully- he had no right to complain about his knees-, hands light on Oikawa’s back. 

“Hey,” he muttered. Oikawa looked up, gritted his teeth, and offered a sly smile. Iwaizumi wanted to hit him. 

“‘Ello, Iwa-chan.” 

“Don’t ‘Iwa-chan’ me right now, you fucking idiot,” Iwaizumi snapped, eyes scanning over Oikawa’s bad knee as the setter dropped his head again with a low laugh. Chocolate waves covered chocolate eyes and Iwaizumi couldn’t breathe because even wounded and sweating, he was the most beautiful thing in the entire world. 

“You’re so mean to me in my time of need,” he cooed, but the words didn’t sound happy or teasing. They didn’t sound like sunshine. They sounded forced and tired and _pained,_ and Iwaizumi wanted to fix it so badly that he made another wish on the sunshine filtering through the gym’s windows. 

_I wish he would be okay, let him be okay._

“Why do you push yourself so hard?” Iwaizumi asked, almost desperately. “Can you stand? We’re taking you to a hospital. Now.” 

Oikawa huffed an empty, empty laugh. Iwaizumi’s gut clenched at the sound. It was so echoing, so full of nothing. This was the Oikawa no one saw. The one that burned so bright, so fast, so hot that he destroyed himself. The one that was bitter and angry and tired of losing to someone that hadn’t had to do anything so he had worked himself to the bone.

When Kageyama had joined Kitagawa, it had hit Oikawa like a slap to the face that he was not the best, no matter what his awards said. Iwaizumi had called bullshit: Oikawa was better and would always be better, there was no question about it in Iwaizumi’s mind.

But there was no denying Tobio’s talent, and no denying that maybe one day he would surpass Oikawa. And that pissed Tooru off, because what had Tobio worked for? How many hours had he spent in a gym, obsessively setting to himself until the ball was like an extension of his fingers? How much time had he spent in a weight room, lifting until he was strong enough to be feared? What had he done to deserve so much power at his fingertips without any work at all? 

Oikawa didn’t know, and neither did Iwaizumi, but it wasn’t long before Oikawa forgot how to take a break. Forgot to stop reaching for the sun for a moment so that he didn’t blind himself.

And one day he jumped, and one day he crumpled, and in his eyes it was like a piece of his world tilted to the side. Not broken, but never the same. 

“Don’t ask me questions like that, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, raising his head and holding his arms up. Iwaizumi stood, gentle as he pulled Oikawa up despite how badly he wanted to ram his fist into a wall. 

Jumper's knee. What did he know about it? It typically took a few weeks to heal, but Oikawa had gone through that. At least, he’d _said_ he’d gone through that. But what happens if you hurt the knee again? What were the possibilities? How bad was it?

He didn’t know, he didn’t know, he didn’t know. 

“Why do you push yourself so hard?” Was all Iwaizumi said, slinging Oikawa’s arm over his shoulder. He wanted to know. He _had_ to know. 

Oikawa’s head swung towards him, and his face was twisted with pain. 

“Because every day I feel like I’m drowning and this is all I know how to do to stay afloat.” 

Iwaizumi’s anger evaporated into smoke that curled around his heart, poisonous and suffocating. Oikawa’s eyes were swimming with something like agony, a wound that ran deeper than just his knee. 

“Tooru,” he began, but the doors blew open and in stormed Mattsun, eyebrows furrowed in anger that quickly melted into concern. Iwaizumi cut himself off, snapping his mouth closed. 

What had he been about to say?

“What did you do?” Mattsun asked, grabbing Oikawa’s other arm and wrapping it around his broad shoulders. Oikawa sighed, turning pleading eyes to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi snorted. 

“You tell him, Iwa-chan, I’m tired.” 

Just like that, it was like the Oikawa that had just been standing in front of him was gone. Gone like the smoke that was still choking his heart with every breath. 

“Hurt his knee again,” Iwaizumi said, beginning to walk. Oikawa winced at every step. In fact, he looked ready to start screaming. The trek across their home court had never felt so long. Makki appeared in the doorway, along with Iwaizumi’s mother. The two of them held the doors open as they shuffled outside, eyes full of nothing but concern. 

“Oh… Tooru,” Iwaizumi’s mother groaned sympathetically. Iwaizumi watched Oikawa struggle to muster a charming smile. It hurt him down to his soul, scraping the edges of him raw with so many emotions and so much smoke. 

The sun was setting, painting the sky pink and deep blue and golden yellow. Oikawa looked at it and smiled sadly, and Iwaizumi didn’t see a sunset anymore, just the colors of his heart laid bare and bleeding against the sky. 

_I wish he could see how much he means to me, even when he’s killing me._

* * *

“You tore your tendon. Evidently, you hadn’t fully recovered from patellar tendonitis when you overworked… -physical therapy… -wear a brace again… -surgery if it gets any worse… -volleyball is probably a no for a while…” 

Oikawa barely heard any of it. Something in him had shut off. 

He would cry later. Breakdown later. Later, when his mother wasn’t sitting up primly in her chair, watching the doctor with sharp blue eyes. Later, when Iwaizumi wasn’t sitting next to him on the hospital table, gripping his hand. 

Iwaizumi. Iwa-chan. Hajime. His ace, his friend. Was holding onto his hand as if he knew that right now Oikawa needed a tether. Of course he knew, he seemed to know Oikawa better than Oikawa did himself. The thought almost hurt as much as his knee did. 

His knee. The knee that was keeping him from playing volleyball. 

Panic hit him in the chest like a sack of bricks. Panic and sorrow and an overwhelming sense of _loss_ , like he didn’t know what to do. Because he didn’t. Volleyball was his one escape. Volleyball was where he went to feel like he belonged, even for a moment. 

Volleyball was his entire life. It was the one thing he loved that he was allowed to have. 

And now he couldn’t play it.

Iwaizumi squeezed his hand, and Oikawa suddenly couldn’t breathe around the agony that was more than just his knee. 

Dark eyes pierced through him when he turned. Oikawa felt as if Iwaizumi could see down to the very soul of him. He wondered if he liked what he saw. Oikawa didn't bother to try for a half smile. Not with Iwa. Not with his friend.

Iwaizumi’s face crumpled at the same time Oikawa’s did, and Oikawa didn’t put up a fight when Iwaizumi grabbed him close and didn’t let him go for a long while. 

* * *

Iwaizumi watched Oikawa fall asleep that night and realized abruptly that he would never be worthy of the boy in front of him. There was something distinctly heaven-like about the way Oikawa softened. He looked like an angel, except that he was lying in a hospital bed, and angels weren’t supposed to hurt. 

Oikawa wasn’t supposed to hurt. Not without Iwaizumi. 

And yet Oikawa had gotten hurt, and Iwaizumi had not been at his side, and he couldn’t help but think that if he’d been just a bit more supportive there, a bit kinder there, Oikawa would still be getting ready for a long, hard week of volleyball. He would still feel the rush, still burn himself up under the lights until he sparked off into ashes. 

It wouldn’t be like this forever. No, Oikawa would heal, then he would go back. 

But how long would he watch from the bench? How long would this incredible boy have to sit and stay quiet and watch his team and do absolutely _nothing?_

Oikawa was too good for that. 

Iwaizumi’s chest was aching differently this time, weighty with a new kind of love. A novel kind of grief. A sharper kind of regret. Different as he realized that Oikawa could do so much better than him, that Iwaizumi would never be worthy of him. That he had made _so many wishes and Oikawa was still hurting._ That he had fallen in love with sunshine and if he had to stand beside him for one more second and burn, he wouldn’t be able to hold it in anymore.

Oikawa had just lost volleyball for who knew how long. Iwaizumi would not be the one to pile on more grief. 

Iwaizumi hated himself in that moment. 

But oh, how he loved Oikawa. 

He stood from the chair beside the bed and made for the door, stopping once to look back. Oikawa’s hair fanned out over his forehead. His mouth hung open slightly. And damn Iwaizumi to hell, but Oikawa was so beautiful and so out of his reach. Moonlight streamed through the open window, and Iwaizumi glimpsed the night sky outside it. 

He knew not to wish on stars. But he’d long ago admitted that Tooru was the one unattainable thing. And he’d already made so many wishes on sunshine. 

So he made another, hand gripping a cold metal doorway, staring at this fallen angel while his heart broke itself. 

_I wish that he would realize how I was hurting him. And I wish that he would remember how I loved him._

* * *

**Trashykawa** 5:37am

Iwa-chan, I just woke up. 

**Trashykawa** 5:39am

I feel like shit. 

Send help. 

**Trashykawa** 5:41am

Just realized you’re probably sleeping

Well, you’d better be

Text me when you wake up

 **Trashykawa** 7:25am

Iwa-chan?

I know you’re up, cause you have school

I’m not going

If you care, we left the doctor last night after I woke up and the scans came back. There’s nothing else wrong with my knee. They prescribed the stupid brace and tons of physical therapy

Iwaizumi, I can’t play volleyball for 6 months. 

**Trashykawa** 8:54am

I’m confused

Did I do something? 

**Trashykawa** 10:13am

Am I actually getting ghosted right now? 

What the fuck, Iwaizumi?! 

**Trashykawa** 11:20

If you don’t pick up your phone, I’m walking to your house and kicking your ass

Iwaizumi Hajime, answer my texts

I kind of need you

A lot

 **Trashykawa** 12:33

I don’t know what I did. I honest to god don’t know

Tell me, I’ll fix it. 

Please, Hajime

* * *

“I feel sick,” he told his mother that morning in the kitchen. She looked up from whatever food she was messing with to stare at him, cocking her head slightly. He recognized the motion as something he did to Oikawa everyday. The thought hurt. He swallowed. “I’m not going to school.” 

“Hajime-” she began, but he shook his head. Almost desperately. A pit had opened up inside of him. She must have noticed, she always did. 

“I can’t go. Please.” 

His mother sighed, moving forward to brush dry hands against Iwaizumi’s forehead. She wouldn’t find any sickness. Still, she just dropped her arms and regarded him almost sadly. 

“Do you want me to call-” 

“No.” 

Iwaizumi’s phone had been buzzing insistently. He had only responded to say one thing: _It wasn’t your fault, don’t you dare think so_. And now... He couldn’t bear hearing Oikawa on the other end of the receiver, angry and hurt and tired and wanting to know what was wrong. It would break his heart wholly to hear Oikawa continue caring with that huge heart of his that Iwaizumi would never deserve. 

One day, he’d realize. And it would be over. And no one would have to get hurt anymore. Oikawa would never have to feel any more guilt because of Iwaizumi. He could go and grab at all the stars he wanted and rip them from the sky. He could go and soak up all the sunlight and he could do it because he wouldn’t have Iwaizumi’s shadow; wouldn’t be carrying Iwaizumi’s burden. 

“Don’t call Tooru,” he said, and his heart was breaking anyways, and something in his mother’s eyes was knowing. “I’ll be fine.” 

Because it was summer in Miyagi, and there was sunlight all around him, and he had no more wishes to make. It was summer in Miyagi, and Iwaizumi’s heart was breaking anyways. 

* * *

A week. A week spent in his room, a week of avoiding Oikawa and silently accepting the work that Makki would bring him after school. It was always accompanied with a sigh and a quip and then a pitying stare that he thought Iwaizumi didn’t catch. Makki didn’t push him on why he was avoiding everyone. Why he was avoiding his best friend. Just handed him the folder and told him that his teachers were confused and that Oikawa needed someone. 

Iwaizumi always shut the door after that. 

Oikawa needed someone. Someone that wasn’t him. 

He did the dishes and vacuumed and hung up his laundry while his mother was at work. He played music that was as far from Oikawa’s taste as he could get and threw open all the windows and he tried so hard to not think of wishes. 

_Tooru, I wish you knew how much I loved you._

_And Tooru, I wish you loved me back._

_I wish-_

_I wish-_

_Tooru, god, I wish-_

He slammed the cup he was drying onto the counter with a bang. Dishes rattled. The house was silent, but his thoughts were a cyclone. It was grabbing at every piece of Iwaizumi’s heart and flinging the shards into his bruised soul. 

What could he have done differently? How could he have avoided falling in love with the one person he couldn’t have? 

His childhood best friend. 

He snorted out a bitter laugh and threw the towel down and braced his hands on the edge of the sink, pulling in deep breaths. Breath. Breath. Those wishes don’t matter. Breath. Breath. Breath. You can’t hurt him if you don’t tell him. 

_You’re hurting him now,_ a tiny voice in the back of his head whispered. He slammed a wall up against it because no, no, Oikawa would understand one day. When he was playing volleyball again and in love with someone who could make him happy. He would see. 

A sharp knock startled him out of his thoughts. 

He froze, because he knew that knock. 

“Iwaizumi Hajime.” Oikawa’s voice wasn’t harsh, but it rang through the house all the same. It was tired. It was angry, and it was confused. Iwaizumi squeezed his eyes shut. “Open this goddamn door.”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

But Iwaizumi squared his shoulders and marched for the door and told himself; _here, here is where it ends._

He pulled the door open and all the resolve he might have found in the silent house crumbled away like sand when he beheld Oikawa. Oikawa, wearing his school uniform, the tie undone, his jacket draped over his arm. Oikawa, staring at him with those chocolate eyes made of glass. They looked like ice now. 

Still so lovely. 

Iwaizumi cleared his throat. 

“Do you wanna-” 

“I’m not having this conversation outside, Iwaizumi,” Oikawa said before Iwaizumi could get a sentence out, brushing past him and sweeping into the house. Iwaizumi breathed out, collecting himself, and followed Oikawa into the living room. The setter dropped down onto the couch, settling himself among yellow throw pillows, arm draped across the back. He looked- he looked ethereal and dangerous and like someone Iwaizumi had fallen so in love with. 

Iwaizumi leaned against the entryway’s frame, crossing his arms. Oikawa watched him with those cold, worn down eyes. Iwaizumi had missed them, but not the look in them. 

“You’ve been angry with me before,” Oikawa said. His eyes were picking Iwaizumi apart, analyzing every single tic. He’d always been so good at that. “But- no. This is different. I can tell.” Something in his face seemed to soften. “Iwaizumi, what’s going on? Tell me what I did and let me fix it, _please,_ I’m begging you.” 

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said, as firmly as he could. “It was nothing you did. Absolutely nothing.”

Brown eyes flashed. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

Something in the room sparked and caught fire. 

“You didn’t do _anything._ All of this mess?" Iwaizumi gestured in between them. "Me. All of it was _my fault,_ I already told you that.”

“Then tell me what’s going on.” 

“I can’t.” 

Oikawa was standing now, hands clenched into fists at his side. He didn’t put as much weight on his bad knee. Dangerous, so dangerous, the water Iwaizumi swam in. Except it wasn’t water, it was fire, and it was in Oikawa’s eyes. It always was. Fire and sunshine and wishes. 

“I think I have the right to know,” he said. 

“I can’t,” Iwaizumi repeated. 

Oikawa shattered.

“ _Why not?!”_ He shouted. “You come and find me when I’m in some of the worst pain of my life, you hold me like everything is gonna be fine! Then I wake up and I hear this awful news and it’s like my entire world is falling apart and you’re _not there,_ no, you know what you’re doing? _Fucking ghosting me!_ I needed you, and you were ignoring me. That gives me full right to an explanation.”

Oikawa was breathing heavily and Iwaizumi was clutching onto the frame of the archway like he had been that night at the hospital. 

Sunlight streamed through the window. 

“Why are you doing this?” The question was softer, and Iwaizumi shattered too. “Why are you leaving me?”

_Tooru, I wish you knew how much-_

“Because I love you, dammit, Oikawa!” 

_And Tooru, I wish you-_

Oikawa’s glass eyes filled with tears and it was like that rage melted away under the remnants of all of Iwaizumi’s wishes. 

“Oh, Hajime…” he whispered. “I love you too.” 

_And Tooru, I wish you loved me back._

Iwaizumi stared and stared and stared because this could not be real. Oikawa’s hands were at his mouth now, and Iwaizumi was gaping, and there were tears tracking silvery paths down Oikawa’s cheeks and it felt like Iwaizumi was dying. 

Sunlight streamed through the window and Oikawa’s edges glowed with it. 

Even though he’d never really needed the sun. He was bright enough on his own. Brighter still when he was smiling like that. Like they had a chance. 

“Hajime,” Oikawa murmured. Iwaizumi fell in love all over again with the way his name sounded falling off of Oikawa’s tongue. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Iwaizumi swallowed even as his broken heart began to throb again. Swallowed because this felt distinctly like confessing his sins to a god. A god; but Oikawa was just a boy. 

A beautiful boy that Iwaizumi could maybe- finally- reach.

So he told the truth as his wishes swirled through the air and glowed in Oikawa’s tiny smile. 

“I didn’t think that you would ever love me back. But I knew that if I had to be with you like that for one more second, I wouldn’t be able to keep it to myself. And I knew that if I told you, you would either leave me or feel guilty forever and I couldn’t… I couldn’t bear that. You don’t deserve something like that.” 

Oikawa’s eyes were wide and soft and shining and he was an angel, and he was beautiful, and Iwaizumi loved him. 

“You’re so stupid sometimes, Iwa-chan.”

There it was. 

“You aren’t any better, Trashykawa.” 

They moved at the same time, they always did. 

Oikawa’s lips were salty with tears and his hair was so soft. Iwaizumi buried his fingers in it and explored Oikawa’s mouth with his tongue and they kissed there on the living room carpet until they both ran out of breath. Iwaizumi broke away first and cradled Oikawa’s face with his hands, not wanting to let go for even a second. Oikawa grinned and gently pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

Gently, gently. He was so beautiful here. So beautiful everywhere. 

He was an angel, and he was Iwaizumi’s.

“I love you,” Oikawa murmured. 

“I love you too,” Iwaizumi whispered. 

Iwaizumi didn’t wish for things. At least, he didn’t used to. 

But then he found home in a pair of chocolate eyes that sparkled. Then he met a beautiful boy with glowing edges. And Iwaizumi made two wishes. 

One on the sunshine, and one on those eyes. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh, thank you for reading! It would mean a whole lot to me if you could leave a comment if you have any feedback or suggestions or requests for other fics. I'm gonna stick to Haikyuu for now, just cause it's something I know well, but... yeah. Thanks again for reading, hope it wasn't too terrible < 3


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